


we're family friends

by transzoemurphy



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: (not rlly but jared doenst know that), Canon Compliant, Child Death, Drinking, Fighting, Hamilton References, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Fic, Pre-Canon, Repressed Memories, Self Esteem Issues, TBOM WAS OUT WHEN EVAN WAS 12 BC I SAID SO AND IM TOO LAZY TO FACTCHECK, Underage Drinking, almost-suicide attempt, anxiety attack, body image issues, historical fun facts, i know i did, jared’s uh gay, masturbation mentions lmao, mentions of self harm, not a Fix-It Fic more like a Break It Even More fic, one sided kleinsen - Freeform, suicide ideation, the book of mormon references, them being in texas is Canon, us gays out here all having the deserted island dream, yes Jesse is jeremy heere pre-name change, ‘he’s so youngggg why would you say he feels like tha—‘ BECAUSE CHILDREN HAVE EMOTIONS TOO SHARON
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 01:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15962042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transzoemurphy/pseuds/transzoemurphy
Summary: we see a fraction of jared’s senior year of high school. what don’t we see? everything that came before.





	we're family friends

**Author's Note:**

> y’all seem to have decided that jared’s been a dick to evan for forever but I don't think thats how it went down

 

**_8 years old: you have trucks?_ **

“Evan, this is Jared. Jared, this is Evan,” Jared’s mom said.

“Hi!” Jared said, bouncing on his toes. “Do you like trucks? My mama said you like trucks. Do you wanna play with mine?”

Evan peeked out from behind Heidi, a smile beginning to form, showing off cutely crooked teeth. He blew his brown hair out of his eyes. Jared wondered how he did it, because it looked cool. Maybe he’d ask sometime. “You have trucks?”

“Yeah!” Jared pulled two out of each pocket. “You can come up to my room!”

Evan looked up at his mom. “Can I?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Heidi said, smiling and rubbing his head. “Go have fun.”

Evan chased after Jared and Jared let out a laugh, collapsing at the top of the stairs and holding a hand out to Evan. “Come on up! I’ve got a loft bed.”

“Like the up-high ones?” Evan asked, perking up.

“Yep!” Jared grinned, realizing how excited Evan looked and feeling a strange sense of pride wash over him. “Wanna come up?”

“Yes!”

 

**_9 years old: pinky promise?_ **

“My mama says I can’t tell anyone this,” Jared confided quietly. “Not a _siiiiiiii_ - _ngle_ person. But I gotta tell you, ‘cause you’re my best friend. Obviously.”

Evan leaned forward, silent except for the shuffle of his shoes as he adjusted one of his feet. The wind slowed down and the tree house was dead silent.

“You promise you’re not gonna tell anyone? Pinky promise?” He asked, eyes wide.

“Of _course_ ,” Evan said, extending his pinky and linking it with Jared’s. A pinky promise was the most solemn, the strongest of bonds.

“I’m having a sibling. My mama’s having a baby,” Jared breathed.

“What’s its name!?” Evan asked, excited.

“We don’t know yet. I said we should name it Luke Skywalker, like in Star Wars, but my mom said no to that. She’s saying either Rebekah for a girl or Issac for a boy.”

“That’s so cool,” Evan grinned. “I wanna meet it!”

“Me too,” Jared said. “I wanna teach it to play chess. Chess is so fun. My mommy says love is the most beautiful thing in the world, but I think it’s chess. And climbing trees. Do you want Gushers?”

“Yes!” Evan grinned, all talk of siblings forgotten at the offer of the sugary fruit snacks.

 

**_10 years old: and God still loves you._ **

Jared was crying in Evan’s treehouse at eleven PM. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he leant on Evan’s shoulder, not caring if this was wrong or weird, just needing someone to be there.

Evan wrapped an arm around him and held his glasses in the other, Jared having long since figured out that he was crying too hard to keep them on his face.

“I said I’d be there,” he sobbed, burying his face in Evan’s shirt. “I said I'd keep him safe. I said I’d keep baby Issac safe. I couldn’t keep him safe. It’s my fault, Ev, I couldn’t — I couldn’t keep him safe.”

“It’s not your fault,” Evan mumbled. “It’s not your fault. He died because he was sick, Jare. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I wanted everything to be good for him,” Jared said through tears. “It’s all wrong, I’m wrong, it’s all wrong and it’s bad and I’m bad and it’s all so bad — Evan, it’s all so — I don’t know how to—” Jared pulled away, burying his face in his knees and sobbing.

Evan stayed quiet and Jared wondered how he knew it was what he needed. “I feel so. Wrong. Bad. I don’t know. It’s all so — everything’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about?” Evan whispered.

“If I’d done… something bad. Even if I couldn’t help it. Even if I was. If I was… if something about me was… wrong? Would you still lo— would you still care about me?”

“Of course, buddy,” Evan soothed. “You’re okay.” He pulled Jared closer.

“If I — my mama always — I don’t want to — _damn_.”

Evan let out a tiny gasp but didn’t comment on his language, instead brushing a pine needle off Jared’s knee.

“I’m not talking about Issac anymore,” Jared mumbled to clarify what he was about to say, trying to make sense of how he felt, how anything felt, how his world was rapidly falling apart at his feet.

“Okay,” Evan said. 

“You know how — when — um. You know how when boys — grow up — they start looking at girls. And wanting to date them and kiss them and stuff?”

“Yeah?” Evan said. 

Jared knew Evan was expecting him to blurt out that he had a crush on one of the girls in his class, like Natalie Goodman, maybe, who got As on all her tests and knew how to play Mozart on piano. Or Veronica MacNamara, who wore coordinated green and purple outfits every day. Or even Jesse Heere, the tomboyish redhead with a face full of freckles. 

“What if — what if — I’m sorry—” He bent over, curling into himself, hiding his face in his hands while Evan continued rubbing soothing circles into his knee. “What if I look at boys — the — the way I’m supposed to look at girls?”

It hadn’t really registered that Evan was moving his hand until he stopped. “Did someone tell you it wasn’t okay?”

“My mom. And the Bible,” Jared mumbled. “It all feels _bad_.”

“Can I tell you something?” Evan asked. He shifted so he was sitting in front of Jared, holding both the other boy’s hands in his own.

There was a moment of silence and Jared realized Evan was waiting for an answer. “Yeah.”

“My mom… I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, so don’t tell anyone else?” He asked. Jared nodded. “My mom likes girls and boys. She loved my daddy and now she loves a girl from work.”

“Really?” Jared asked. “And she’s still Jewish like us?”

“Yeah,” Evan said, smiling a little. “God still loves her. And God still loves you, too. No matter if you look at girls or boys or other people or all of them or no one.”

“Other people?”

“Some people aren’t boys or girls,” Evan said. “So instead of using ‘he’ or ‘she,’ those people can use ‘they,’ if they want. And God loves them too.”

“And some people go from boys to girls?”

“Trans people,” Evan supplied.

“My mom says they’re just trying to be cool,” Jared said.

“That’s not true,” Evan shrugged. “It’s hard for them to be trans. It's not fun. My mom told me about it ‘cause her old boyfriend, the one after my daddy left, he was transgender. And he told me about it too.”

“And God loves them too?” Jared asked, joking a little, because it seemed to have become a motif in their conversation.

“And God loves them too,” Evan confirmed, smiling, showing he picked up on the joke.

 

**_11 years old: (he didn’t eat any Gushers)_ **

“Let’s see," said Doctor Rodster said, glancing down at his clipboard. “Jared’s in the fifty-forth percentile for his height and seventy-seventh for weight.”

The words wouldn't have mattered to him that much. Really, they wouldn’t.

But then he got home and his mom decided to go _off_ at him, telling him he had to “ _be active”_ and “ _lose weight”_ and “ _stop_ eating _so much_.” And Jared sat through it all, stoney faced. Until finally she left and he ran up to his room and stared in the mirror and tried to figure out what the hell to do.

It didn’t get to him. It didn’t get to him. It didn’t get to him.

It's what he told himself as he stripped down to his boxers and stared in the mirror, for the first time noticing all the fat that was on his body rather than the muscle. 

He pulled his laptop down from the shelf and typed in his password — tr33b0y98 — and Googled ‘ _how many calories do you burn from sit ups_?’

An hour and 26 tabs later, he had a bunch of notes in a Pages document.

Not that he’d ever use them.

He sprinted out to the tree house, climbing up into the squeaky wooden structure. Evan had been here since the last time Jared was — his entry in the notebook read: “ _hope ur ok. stashed up on gushers btw — they're in the lowest left cabinet. see u friday (hopefully sooner) :) -e_ ”

Jared smiled at the other boy’s scrawled, cramped writing.

“ _i’m eh tbh. it’s fine tho don’t worry. i didn't bring anything this visit but my shining personality lol. see u friday -j_ ”

Jared found a nice corner where no one could see him and the wind wouldn’t bother him and curled up in it, resting his head on his shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut.

This was fine. It was all fine.

He fell asleep there, alone in the treehouse, and he only woke up at two in the morning when it began to rain.

 

**_12 years old: the deserted island dream_ **

Jared couldn’t look Evan in the eyes. They’d had a sleepover. Jared had woken up from a rather explicit dream about the other boy at two in the morning and took a shower immediately, the water at the hottest setting, burning his skin. He scrubbed and he sobbed but the memories didn't go away. He changed clothes and scoured his skin until some of it was _bleeding_ and got a different blanket and tried to go back to sleep but he just felt so _guilty_.

Now it was nine in the morning and Evan was sitting on the end of his bed asking if he was _okay_. And _no_ , he _wasn’t_ , he hadn’t been okay in a while and he probably wouldn’t ever be again.

“I hate this,” he said, but it ended up coming out his mouth sounding like “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Evan asked.

“No,” he said, but it sounded like “yeah” once it had slipped off his tongue.

“Okay,” said Evan. “What do you want for breakfast?”

_Heterosexuality?_ “Anything’s fine.”

“Waffles?” Evan suggested.

“Sure,” Jared shrugged. He scratched absently at the little bumps that littered his forearms.

“You’re… sure you’re okay?” Evan asked hesitantly.

“It's all fine,” he said, but it came out whispered and high pitched.

Evan placed a hand on his knee. _That’s not helping_. “Do you wanna go get breakfast at Starbucks? There’s a place right down the street.”

“Sure,” Jared said. “Yeah.”

Evan eyed him nervously but bent down, tying his shoes as Jared pulled on a hoodie. “You wanna walk or catch a bus?”

“Let’s walk,” said Jared, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The two of them left the house soon after, and Evan asked, “Is there anything I can do to help you with whatever’s not going on?”

Jared hummed a little bit. “Okay, so… remember when we were ten and I was crying in your treehouse because I’m—” his voice dropped, hoping to keep the conservative state of Texas from finding out about him “—not straight?”

“Yeah,” Evan said, apparently catching on to his anxieties and lowering his voice as well.

“I—” Jared shoved his fists deeper into the hoodie, trying to think of the best way to voice what he needed to say. “Shit, I, uh…”

Evan had gotten used to him swearing and didn’t flinch, rather just tilted his head, knowing Jared only swore when he was stressed. 

“I had this, fuckin’, uh, this dream, man. About a guy.” He buried himself deeper into the hoodie. _Dear God please let me die here_.

“Was it the deserted island dream?” Evan asked.

“What?” Jared asked. It was a weird question to ask for obvious reasons, but also — it _had_ been on a deserted island. What the fuck?

“Oh, sorry, there’s just — there’s this musical that I like, it’s called Book of Mormon, it’s really good, um, and there’s, there’s a line about — a… deserted island dream? Sorry.”

“No, you’re good,” Jared said. “And yeah. It was a deserted island, actually.”

“Wait, really?” Evan asked.

Jared nodded, having found himself rapidly shoved back into his body at the remembrance that said deserted island dream had been about _Evan,_ as in the boy standing next to him right now with the really sweet smile.

The two of them reached the Starbucks and Jared pushed open the door, holding it open for Evan.

“Thanks,” the taller boy mumbled, looking a little less at ease now that he was in the coffeeshop.

“What’re you getting?” He asked, still not removing his hands from his pockets.

“Probably the, um, a doughnut and hot cocoa.”

“A wise man,” Jared quipped. “Do you wanna order first, or should I?”

“You can, um, go first.”

Jared analyzed the other boy’s face — he looked anxious, like everything had fallen down on him — before turning to the cashier, a teenager with a green undercut and a lip ring whose name tag read Angel.

“Hi, could I get a hot chocolate and a doughnut, please?” He asked.

“Of course,” said Angel. “And you, sir?”

Jared nudged Evan before seeing the pure panic on his face. “He’ll have the same,” Jared filled in for Evan, taking a breath and nudging Evan again, this time in a comforting way.

“All right,” Angel said, clicking a button on his end. “That’ll be $8.72.”

Jared handed over a ten and took the change, thanking the waiter while Evan took the drinks with trembling hands.

“You all right?” Jared asked as the two of them sat down by a window.

Evan shook his head.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Evan tapped his tongue on his teeth before pulling a pen out of his pocket and scrawling, _not really. Just stay?_

Jared knew he'd always, _always_ stay.

 

**_13 years old: maybe I want to._ **

 

Evan had taken a liking to Zoe Murphy, the sister of the one and only local psychopath Connor Murphy. By _taken a liking_ he meant _Evan never shut the fuck up about her_. Jesus fucking Christ, it was ‘Zoe this’ and ‘Zoe that’ all day long, if he even ever _saw_ the other boy, and sometimes he wondered why he cared so much. He didn’t see Evan in most of his classes and the two began to slip away. They still met up in the treehouse on Fridays after school but their chatter became more stilted, less carefree, and God, Jared wanted what they’d had back. He ached for it, for the friendship the two of them had shared. 

Evan, however, was gone.

It was also the year his dad left for the first time to go to Utah and visit a lady “for work.” Both he and his mom knew it wasn’t for work. Just like Jared knew that Issac wasn’t biologically related to Jared’s father.

His dad was gone.

He didn’t have many friends, other than that. He could hang out with the losers, geeks, and stoners: Michael (the openly gay stoner at their school), Henry (the openly stoned stoner at their school), Connor (the town’s local psychopath), Jeremy (an insecure kid who was rumored to have been suspended for jerking off in the bathroom), JD (who Jared considered the most likely to blow up the school), Dustin (who could probably sell weed in class and get off with a quick “Dustin, please don’t do that again”), Arnold (the school’s compulsive liar)… But none of them really knew him. None of them _liked_ him.

None of them were ever there.

His mom was absent emotionally, never caring to check up on her only living son, always reading her stupid bible or talking to her stupid bible study groups or telling him he needed to do his chores.

She wouldn’t notice if he disappeared. No one would.

If he died and no one noticed, would it even matter that he’d lived?

It wasn’t like he’d gone seeking out a dangerous situation. It was just that Evan had mentioned that the tenants in the other half of his house had moved out and it was now open. It wasn’t like he meant to get drunk. Maybe his parents should’ve checked the liquor cabinet. It wasn’t like he’d meant to get fucking wasted right after his bar mitzvah.

But situations lined up and he found himself at Evan’s house (he was such a creep) with an empty beer bottle in one hand (he wanted to throw it but didn’t want to wake Evan) and the button-down he’d worn hung over one shoulder.

It wasn’t that hard to scale the house, seeing as all he had to do was climb in the window (always unlocked in case there was a fire) and creep up the stairs, then wriggle out of the highest window he could get to and — yeah, he’d have to get rid of the bottle — he dropped it on the floor and kept climbing higher and higher — until he’d kicked a foot up high enough to push himself onto the weird flat roof.

The stars were beautiful. He wished Evan was there. It seemed like something that nerd of a boy would love. Jared loved it, anyway. Maybe Evan wouldn’t love it. Maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe he had never cared and only stayed with Jared for so long because he felt bad.

Jared laid down face-first on the concrete roof, his tank top doing nothing to keep his arms warm, not wanting to put on his button down. If he could stop thinking about Evan _fucking_ Hansen for one minute that would be _great_.

He sat up and crawled over to the edge of the roof, staring down at the ground. It looked far, but yet, at the same time, close, like it was calling him. Like everything would get better if he just… fell.

His phone dinged. He picked it up and checked the screen. He couldn’t read the time, but the text below it caught his eye.

_Evan: i saw u walking down the street a couple minutes ago lmao u okay?_

_Jared: oh eyh im fime_

_Evan: uhhh are you sure??_

_Evan: where even are u_

_Jared: dnt freak ot_

_Evan: …noT frEaKiNg_

_Jared: im kinb of on th roofd_

_Jared: migbt be fkucign drunk who knwos_

_Evan: you're on the roof??of my house??_

_Jared: ujh. yah lmoa_

_Evan: uh I'll be there asap_

Jared stared down, clicking off his phone and listening for the sound of footsteps.

_Evan: how the fuck did u get up there_

_Jared: I clibmed_

_Jared: hpped up_

_Evan: uhhhhhhh thanks I think??_

He could jump. Right now. Just jump and end it all and never have to see everyone’s disappointed faces when he fucked up yet another thing.

He couldn’t jump. Not when Evan was coming for him.

He could jump and end it all and he wouldn’t have to worry about Evan because he’d either be dead or in hell and either would be rather distracting from the problem of Evan.

“Jared?” Evan’s voice. Soft. And deep, now that it’d started changing. Still soft, though, like velvet. 

“Hi,” he said.

“Come back here,” Evan whispered. His voice had changed in the past moment. He sounded. Different. Jared didn't know how.

“It’s nice here.”

“You’ll fall.”

Jared turned for the first time and was surprised to find actual tears building in his eyes. “Maybe I want to.”

“Jared…”

“ _Maybe I want to._ ”

“Please come back.”

“I'll come back a little if you come forward,” he compromised, and Evan, seeming to realize it was really his only option, came forward. Jared scooted over to him.

“Why?” Evan asked, and the word was loaded.

“Why not?” Jared responded, gesticulating with his shirt.

“Aren’t you cold?” Evan asked.

“Eh. It doesn’t matter.”

Evan pulled his hoodie over his head — God the guy had nice arms, and stomach, and skin, and, well, everything. “Here.”

Jared tossed his button-up at Evan as payment/an apology and Evan accepted it, pulling it on over the plain green t-shirt he was wearing. Jared pulled on the hoodie — it was red and smelled like pine.

“That’s Orion,” he mumbled.

“What?” Evan asked.

“That constellation.” He pointed. “You see the three stars in a line?”

“…No?”

“It’s right there.” He grabbed Evan’s arm and lifted it, using it to point. “You see…?”

“Oh! Yeah,” Evan said. “I see it.”

“That’s Orion’s belt. The two stars above and below it make his body, and, I dunno if you can see the weapons or whatever — I can’t — but apparently they’re there.”

“That’s so cool,” Evan mumbled.

“Cassiopeia,” Jared continued, smiling at the other boy. “Right there, behind you, you’ll have to turn a little — it looks like a W on its side.”

“Oh, I see it!”

“That’s Cassiopeia. Or, well, that’s her throne, apparently.”

Evan smiled up at the stars. “That’s so cool. Stars are so cool.”

“They could also kill you.”

Evan giggled a little. Jared wanted to live in his laugh forever. “I’m enjoying the moment, Jared.”

“Just giving you a little perspective,” Jared said.

This was Evan without the pressure of preforming for everyone. This was Evan without his walls and walls around his heart.

This was Evan on the roof of that building and Jared knew he could spend his entire life with this Evan, right here.

 

**_14 years old: a hero, a lover, a prince_ **

Jared had promised himself that he wouldn’t tell anyone, _ever_ , but he’d taught himself to play guitar in seventh grade and he'd written his own songs.

But when Evan Hansen was in your room with his sweet smile and that little nervous tic where he played with the hem of his shirt and he asked you why there was a guitar in your room, well, you _had_ to tell him, didn't you?

“I, um,” Jared cleared his throat. “I play. And write songs and stuff. It’s no big deal,” he shrugged off, although it was actually a very big deal, especially considering guitar was what had kept him clean from self harm for three months already.

“You do? That’s so cool,” Evan said. “I've always wanted to learn. I can only really play a few chords, though.”

“I can teach you,” Jared offered, the words leaving his mouth without permission. 

“Are you sure?” Evan asked. “I wouldn’t wanna bother you—”

“Evan, we’re friends. You're not bothering me. What do you wanna learn? Because I feel like it’s easier to learn the chords for a song, master that, and then add a couple more for a new song.”

“You know — have you heard of the musical Next to Normal?”

“I have, actually! I haven't listened to it but it sounds good,” Jared said, hopping up onto his bed and resting the guitar on his knee. He patted the seat next to him and Evan sat, bouncing his leg slightly. “Wait, no, I’ve actually listened to _Superboy and the Invisible Girl_.”

“That’s my favourite song from it,” Evan grinned. “Could I— could you teach me that? Maybe?”

Jared nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! Let me just pull up the chords.” He slid his phone out of his pocket and googled it, plucking at a guitar string with one finger. He hit the link a second later, grinning and showing Evan.

"Chords are pretty hard to pick up at first, and it stings like a bit— really bad, but you’ll figure it out. It gets easier,” Jared said.

“They say that about depression too, but okay,” Evan remarked dryly. Jared snorted and decided it was a pretty good analogy that he’d have to work it into a song later.

“The first chord is D,” Jared said. “Do you know that one?”

“He wants the D,” Evan whispered maturely. “And nope, I don’t think so.”

“All right,” said Jared, balancing the guitar on his knee. “So this triangle boy right here is D…”

Two hours later, Evan had bandaids on all five of the fingers of his left hand, but he knew every chord from memory and could play the song if he had the chords in front of him. Granted, he still paused for far too long to switch to the next note occasionally, and began clenching his jaw in pain about an hour in, but Jared was incredibly proud of him. It had taken him a good week to where Evan had ended up in two hours.

Evan hummed under his breath, seemingly thinking about the chords, before he began to sing. Albeit quietly, but he was singing, and Jared found it harder and harder to hold back his blush.

“ _He’s a hero, a lover, a prince, she’s not there… superboy and the invisible girl, everything a kid oughta be_ …” Evan trailed off before huffing. “I can’t switch chords fast enough!”

“You’re doing really well,” Jared assured. “Lemme see,” he added, holding his hands out for the guitar. Evan passed it to him, brushing hair out of his eyes.

“ _He’s immortal, forever alive, then there’s me_ ,” Jared continued the song, voice low, trying to hide behind his hair. “ _I wish I could fly, and magically appear and disappear. I wish I could fly — I’d fly far away from here_.”

“See, that was much bet—”

“Shh,” Jared hushed him, pressing a finger to his lips and jerking it away like he’d been burnt upon realizing how _gay_ that was. “You did great.”

 

**_15 years old: 3:47 am_ **

Jared was awoken at an ungodly early hour in the morning by Evan’s custom text tone. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes, checking the time to see that he’d only gone to sleep two hours ago.

_Evan: u up??_

_Jared: why the hell are u awake at 3:47am_

_Evan: I cnt sleep_

_Jared: ???u mean like., all night???_

_Evan: yeah??_

_Jared: jesus christ man_

_Jared: why not??_

_Evan: im havngin an anciety attack_

_Jared: shit man_

_Jared: im sorry im sorry,,_

_Jared: is there anything I can do to help ??_

_Evan: I dnt wna keep u up_

_Jared: shut up twink i'm helping_

_Evan: ur the twink here_

_Evan: is it ok if . I call u??_

_Jared: yea ofc_

Vaguely, Jared wondered why Evan would call him — didn’t Evan have a phone phobia? — but he didn’t complain, considering the fact that he was always willing to talk to the other boy.

His phone rang a second later and he hit ‘answer,’ resting his phone between his ear and his pillow, staring at his wall.

“Hey,” Evan mumbled. His voice was rough with exhaustion. Jared blushed slightly. 

“Hey. What’s — what’s wrong?”

“I’m not ready,” Evan breathed, sounding panicked.

“For?" Jared prompted.

“ _School_ , Jared, it starts tomorrow. Or, I suppose today.”

“What part are you, um, anxious about?” Jared focused and unfocused his eyes, trying to make sure he wouldn’t fall asleep on Evan, because _god_ that would be humiliating.

“Besides all of it?” Evan chuckled, both boys knowing it wasn’t funny. “Uh, waking up, having to get ready and making sure I don't forget anything, riding the bus to school getting lost, the assembly, meeting all my teachers, homework, lunch, talking to people, gym class, the bus again… uh, basically, all of it.”

“You’re gonna be fine,” Jared soothed him, ignoring his own anxiety. “In the long run, one mistake today won’t really matter, right?”

“But what if it does? Like what if my homeroom teacher hates me because of something I fuck up?”

Something about Evan swearing made heat rush into his cheeks, like it was something for only him to hear. Which was stupid. He _really_ needed to get more sleep.

“She won’t,” Jared mumbled. “You’ll be fine, alright?”

A rustling sound. Jared was pretty sure he'd shrugged. “That sounds fake, but okay.”

“Well, it’s not. You should believe me. I'm right,” Jared said.

Evan let out a breathy laugh. “Thanks,” he said, voice barely audible.

“Anytime,” Jared replied, running a hand though his hair. 

“God,” Evan sighed, and Jared knew he’d never forget the sound of Evan’s voice in that moment. _Jesus_. “It’s so late.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you stay up all night jerking off.” He was only half kidding.

“Shut up,” Evan laughed fondly. “Hey, did you know that Aaron Burr and George Washington banned snacks from cabinet meetings because Thomas Jefferson kept bringing mac & cheese and it was pissing them off?”

“You’re kidding,” Jared laughed, delighted at this piece of American history.

“Nope.” He could almost hear Evan’s smile. “And Angelica Schuyler once bitch-slapped Aaron Burr so hard he’d refuse to go to parties if she was going to be there.”

“Oh my god,” Jared laughed. “Hey, did you know Alexander Hamilton invited John Laurens to a threesome with him and Eliza?”

“Is sex _all_ you ever think about?”

“Absolutely.”

“One time Alexander wrote Eliza a letter that basically boiled down to ‘we need to have a son ‘cause I fuck every living thing I can see and you’re hot so our daughter would be a total whore’ and I think that’s beautiful.”

Jared snorted. “Continue. I don't know why you have all this information about the personal lives of the founding fathers, but I’m intrigued.”

“ _Musicals_ , man, they’ll ruin your life. What else… oh! One time John Adams accidentally attached part of his diary to a letter to Congress and they stopped everything they were doing to make fun of him.”

“Jesus, me too.”

“Aaron Burr once lit himself on fire ‘cause he wanted a candle but he was too lazy to grab a match so he just — he shot the fucking candle. Just flat out shot it.”

“I kinda… did that once,” Jared admitted, laughing.

“You’ve piqued my curiosity; continue,” Evan said.

Jared laughed a little. “So I was like, twelve or thirteen, right, and I didn’t wanna get up to turn on the light. So I grabbed the first thing I could find and chucked it at the light switch. It was a lighter. It jammed between the wall and my bookshelf and almost set it on fire.”

“What a mood,” Evan said through laughs. His voice trailed off. “It’s closer to five than to four,” he commented.

“You should sleep,” Jared mumbled.

Evan hummed in the back of his throat. “I feel bad about it now, though.”

“No, shut up, you’re going to sleep,” Jared said.

Evan breathed out a laugh. “Fine. Only if you do too.”

“Fine,” Jared smiled. “L—see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. You too,” Evan said.

Evan was the first to hang up.

It wasn’t that Jared found himself up for another hour frantically Googling fun facts about the founding fathers to tell Evan later… but he totally did.

 

**_16 years old: gym class, more like homosexual awakening_ **

Jared bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his eyes off Evan and on the stopwatch. But Jesus Christ, this was kinda hot. 

…This was _really_ hot.

“Six minutes in!” The gym teacher encouraged. “Four more, and you’ll never have to do it again.”

“God, I wish that was me,” Jared quipped. Evan shot him a dirty look from where he was shaking, trying to keep himself up. Their gym class was setting their ‘before’ records for how long they could do a wall sit. Jared had gotten a minute and forty seconds. Evan was still going. His face was flushed, he was biting his lip, and his thighs were shaking. Jared tried to think about literally anything else and found he couldn’t. 

“Jared, distract me,” Evan said.

“Uh, the preamble of the US Constitution, go,” Jared said, blurting out the first thing that popped into his mind. Honestly, he needed the distraction too, and he had a history test tomorrow.

“Uh, we the people, in order to form a more perfect — _ow_.” Evan gritted his teeth.

“Keep going, you got this,” Jared said. Evan’s thighs were trembling so hard Jared thought his legs would give out. 

“—union. Establish justice, secure domestic tranquility.” Evan took in a breath, staring down at the floor.

“Three and a half left, you got this,” Jared said.

“Provide for the common defense… promote the general welfare, end the exercise of wall-sits once and for all, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our prosperity. Do ordain and establish this constitution for the United States of America.” 

“Good job!” Jared congratulated him.

Matt Holtzer, Grace Livington, and Emma Seibold were the only people left standing — or, well, sitting — besides Evan, and the class smiled at them from where they were on their laptops watching movies or holding one so the absolute gym _warriors_ could watch a movie. 

“Three minutes,” called the teacher.

Evan’s thighs had stopped quaking, along with the rest of the group’s — Jared assumed they’d just gone numb at this point. He was incredibly impressed. And really fucking gay. This was a problem.

The next two minutes passed quickly, and then it was the last minute, and Evan’s face had gone completely blank. He was sitting there, staring off into the distance, tapping his arms against the wall.

“You got this,” Jared said.

“Mhm,” Evan agreed.

“And you’ll never have to do it again.”

“Thank God," Evan said, and then repeated it in Hebrew. 

“Forty five seconds!”

Jared’s attention was drawn to Evan’s hands, his long fingers tapping at the foam mattress on the wall. God, the boy’s hands were beautiful. Just like the rest of him, but his hands especially. He wasn’t just a little gay, he was a _lot_ gay.

“Thirty seconds!”

“You got this,” Jared cheered, brushing his hair out of his face. “You’re so close, bud.”

Evan’s hands shifted to his knees, tapping out a pattern. 

“Fifteen seconds!”

Evan leaned over to high five him and Jared hit his hand weakly, smiling. “You’re not throwing away your shot.”

“Can’t throw away my shot if I’m too busy throwing a rock at your head.”

“You ain’t wrong.”

“Five seconds… and you’re done!”

The room exploded into a round of clapping for the four kids who had reached ten minutes. Evan buried himself in his t-shirt, not wanting the attention. Jared tied his sports jacket strategically around his waist as the gym teacher said, “Go ahead and change up early.”

Jared huffed and found his corner in the locker room as quickly as possible, yanking off one shirt and pulling on the other, then the same with his shorts, double knotting his laces and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He wandered over to the mirror and made sure he didn’t look _too_ flustered before catching movement in the corner of his eye.

He wasn’t going to feel bad about it! It wasn’t his fault that Evan was changing right there! And it _definitely_ wasn’t his fault that Evan’s back was fucking gorgeous. Heidi shouldn’t ever let him leave the house if she didn’t want Jared to notice how pretty her son was.

Jared shoved his hand deep into his pocket and ignored his blush, splashing water on his face and trying not to think about Evan’s stupid beautiful face or his trembling thighs or his little gasps or the freckles on his back. He wasn’t going to think about that. Nope, not him, not here, and _especially_ not now. Or ever! He wasn’t attracted to Evan Hansen. That was really fucking stupid. He just thought maybe Heidi should force her son to wear a paper bag over his entire body every day. For Jared’s own good.

He swung his bag onto his back and waited for the bell, rushing out the door and onto the bus, swinging into the first open seat and looking as angry as possible so no one would sit with him.

He bounced his leg the whole way home and rushed inside, dropping his school supply shit on the ground and calling “I’m here” before running up to his room, everything forgotten but _Evan_ fucking _Hansen_.

God, Evan’s stupid gorgeous smile and his stupid freckles and stupid thighs and stupid little gasps and stupid lips and his stupid _fucking_ body.

And stupid Jared, collapsing against his bed and shoving his hand down the front of his shorts, phone falling to the ground. 

Stupid Jared, who never did think about the consequences of jerking off to the idea of his best friend until _after_ he came into his hand.

Stupid Jared, who hadn’t compulsively showered in hot water for two years, who found his skin raw and in some places bleeding after his shower, because there was no fucking way he was going to feel okay if he didn’t wash away what he’d done.

It hadn’t been this much of a problem in years. And here he was. Sixteen fucking years old. In the same place he’d been at twelve.

He ran a finger along his skin, wincing at the touch.

He needed to stop thinking about Evan Hansen. He needed to distance himself, or else he’d never be okay.

 

**_17 years old: we’re family friends_ **

“Is it weird,” said Jared, who knew he was the absolute epitome of tact and gracefulness, “to be the first person in history to break their arm from jerking off too much?” _Jared, what the fuck, why would you—?_ “Or do you consider that an honour?”

When he wasn’t greeted with the laugh he was accustomed to, he continued, “I mean, paint me the picture: you’re in your room, you’ve got… Zoe Murphy’s Instagram up on your weird, off-brand cellphone—”

“ _That’s_ not _WHAT HAPPENED_. I wasn’t doing that. Obviously. I was climbing a tree, and, I fell.”

“You _fell_? Out of a _tree_? What are you, like… an _acorn_?” Not his best line, but certainly not his worst.

“Yes, um, well, it’s a funny story actually, because, there was a solid, a solid ten minutes after I fell where I was just lying there, on the ground, waiting for someone to come get me. I was, I was telling myself, ‘any second now they’re gonna come get me.’”

“…And did they?” Jared asked, still waiting for the funny part of the story.

“No, that’s the, uh, that’s the part that’s funny.”

It really wasn’t funny at all and Jared didn’t know how to respond. Luckily, he didn’t have to, because Evan said, “Do you want to sign my cast?”

“W-why are you asking me?” Jared asked, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“I just thought — because we’re friends —” Evan said nervously, and Jared could see the insecurities he’d caused over the past year of distancing himself and he knew he’d fucked up. He’d fucked up big time.

“We’re family friends. That’s like, a whole different thing, and you know it.” Why did he say that — that’s not what he meant to say — “Hey. Tell your mom to tell my mom I was nice to you, or else my parents won’t pay for my car insurance.” 

He’d really fucked up this time, he contemplated as he watched the last bit of light leave Evan’s eyes. He just wanted to scream that he loved Evan from the top of his lungs but he couldn’t because that would mean blowing his cover, that would mean destroying his heart and Evan’s. That would mean explaining all the things he’d done and he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

As he was talking himself out of crying and apologizing with his whole heart, Connor Murphy walked by with his gorgeous dark hair now down to his shoulders.

Instead of complimenting him like a normal fucking person would, what came out of Jared’s mouth was this: “Hey, Connor, lovin’ the new hair length! Very, uh, school-shooter-chic.”

Connor didn’t respond and Jared knew he’d fucked up. _Again_.

“I was, uh, just kidding. It was a joke,” he said, his heart racing at the anger in Connor’s eyes. The last time he’d seen this anger, shit… that had been — shit. He couldn’t even remember. But the burning look in Connor’s eyes was so familiar. Too familiar. He felt an odd sense of déjà vu settle over him, and not the good kind.

“Oh, no, it was funny,” Connor hissed. “I’m laughing. Can’t you tell?”

“You’re such a f-freak,” he mumbled, darting off into the corridors and into his first period class ten minutes early, shaking a little bit.

 

**_17 years old: for two grand_ **

“…I can do emails.” He didn’t know why he said it, and the second it left his mouth he knew it was a horrible idea, but he couldn’t take it back now.

“How?” Evan asked.

Jared gulped and adjusted his laptop monitor. “It’s easy! You make an account, backdate the emails — there’s a reason I was the only CIT with the computer cluster this summer. I have skills, son.” Internally, he grimaced. He was totally talking out his ass with this one. 

“You would do that?”

“For two grand,” Jared joked. He was perfectly willing to forge a couple emails for Evan if it meant spending time with him.

“Two thousand dollars?” Evan repeated, looking panicked.

“Five hundred?”

“I can give you a twenty?”

Jesus Christ, did Evan actually expect to have to pay? He didn’t want Evan’s stupid fucking money. He wanted Evan to _care_ about him. 

But obviously that wasn’t going to happen. “Fine, but you’re a dick.”

“My mom’s coming,” Evan hissed, slamming his laptop closed, and Jared sighed, hitting 'end call’ and staring up at the ceiling.

He really was an idiot.

 

**_17 years old: you should remember who your friends are._ **

 

“Jared, we need more emails, okay, emails showing that, that he was getting worse!”

Jared scoffed in disbelief. It had been two or three weeks since Evan had last contacted him, and for _this_?

“This isn’t funny,” Evan snapped.

“Oh, I think it’s hilarious,” Jared huffed. “I think everyone would probably think it’s hilarious.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It _means_ you should remember who your _friends_ are!” He snapped back.

“Friends?” Fuck. “I thought the only reason you talk to me, Jared, is because of your car insurance?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “ _So_?”

“So maybe the only reason you talk to me, Jared, is because you don’t have any other friends!”

Shit. He’d really fucked up. “I could tell everyone everything!”

Breaking news: local fuckup continues to fuck up, fucking up a boy made of starlight who thinks he’s a fuckup.

“Go ahead, do it. Tell everyone that you helped write emails pretending to be a kid who killed himself.”

“Fuck you, Evan.” Jared turned on his heel and stomped out of the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, “Asshole.”

The second he said it he bolted for the bathrooms on the other side of the school, ducking his face so no one could see how close to breaking he was.

The words echoed in his mind as he slammed himself in a stall and collapsed against the wall, shoving his bag to the other side. Fuck you, Evan. Asshole. The way he’d said it made him sound like a helpless, heartbroken little kid.

And he _was_.

Because at the end of the day, he was just a kid. 

He was just a kid, and he was scared, and he didn't know what to do without his only friend, even if it was his fault that Evan had left. Even if he’d spent the past year actively pushing Evan away while also clinging to him as tightly as possible.

He didn't know how to deal with falling for the boy who’d been his friend for years, so instead of dealing with his emotions in a healthy way, he’d shoved Evan away, and now he was paying the price. He was earning back every cent of pain he’d given Evan.

He dug his hoodie out of his bag and tugged it on over his head, curling up into the warm fabric and sobbing.

He didn’t know how long he’d stayed in that bathroom. He didn’t know where he was supposed to be or what he was supposed to do.

But he did know this: he didn’t deserve Evan Hansen. He had never deserved Evan Hansen.

He never _would_ deserve Evan Hansen.

**Author's Note:**

> this is sad oh
> 
> Want to uhhhhh cry at me ?? i’m on tumblr @dont-the-tears-just-pour


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